


Careful Calculations of Sex Appeal

by embalmer56, princessladybug



Series: The Adventures of Baby Sherlock and Daddy Watson. [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Biting, Bratting, Daddy Kink, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Masturbation, Premature Ejaculation, Red Pants, Safe Sane and Consensual, Shameless Smut, Spanking, anti-fluff, but still pretty fluffy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-10
Updated: 2014-05-10
Packaged: 2018-01-24 07:07:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1596020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/embalmer56/pseuds/embalmer56, https://archiveofourown.org/users/princessladybug/pseuds/princessladybug
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock is attention seeking, again; it doesn't go quite as planned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Careful Calculations of Sex Appeal

**Author's Note:**

> -dubiously beta'd  
> -not britpicked  
> -Timeline, what timeline?  
> -Not our usual ageplay fluff. Please be warned and skip this fic if that isn't your cuppa.  
> -Working title was Smexy Babylock, so you know...hooray smex!

Sherlock leans his head against the cool tile of the shower wall. It’d been more than a month since the incident with John's jumper and Sherlock has never in his memory been more at peace. Things are almost perfect, almost. As free as John has become with his physical affection, which Sherlock still finds disconcertingly luxurious, he’s still made no move to claim Sherlock as his lover. Taking up the bar of mandarin lemongrass soap, Sherlock rubs it across his chest viciously. Despite John's claims, Sherlock really is grateful for how well John takes care for him, but he finds himself still yearning for more. Sherlock’s tired of taking himself in hand in the privacy of his room after being arse up over John's lap or having spent the better part of the day with his head in John's lap being stroked like a tabby cat. And the detective isn’t a simpleton; he's felt John's excitement digging into his hip on more than one occasion he’s found himself over the doctor's lap. Has caught John staring at him when he thought Sherlock wasn't looking, eyes hooded, breathing slightly erratic. John wants to touch him beyond gentle pets and reprimanding smacks, but seems unwilling to take the next step. Which means it’s up to Sherlock to force the doctor's hand.

Having spent most of last night planning, there’s no way that he won’t be able prompt John into giving him what he wants. 

Stepping out of the shower, he barely dries off. The glisten of his skin and his curls sticking to his brow are part of the plan. He wraps a towel low on his hips, making sure it hangs at the perfect angle. A final look in the mirror and Sherlock shakes his hair, beads of water flying everywhere. Yes, this plan is perfect. Not even John Watson can resist his careful calculations of sex appeal.

Except when he does.

John barely looks up from his computer when Sherlock enters the sitting room. He’s used to Sherlock walking around in a towel after a shower. A quick glance up tells John that he’s doing it again.

Sherlock frowns, and had John been looking, he would have seen the detective stomp his foot a little. Sherlock huffs to himself and decides to move onto Plan B. The taller man flops back into his chair, being careful about the angle, making sure that John's laptop doesn’t block his view of the show to come. Looking up at the blonde haired doctor, Sherlock sucks in a breath at the thought of John catching him doing what he is about to do. The thought excites him and his pulse quickens and his breath hitches as he slides his long fingers down the damp skin of his stomach and under the towel. 

Except in his mind palace, it’s not his hand, but John's that has just reached down to grab his cock. John is going to wank him off. Slow and steady at first, using his pre-cum to slide up and down his entire length.  Then it would be fast and hard, just like Sherlock wants. Rough and hard with no mercy until Sherlock begs his Daddy for release. 

"Takeaway for dinner, then?" John asks idly, his eyes still focused on the computer.

 

How could John not notice? Sherlock flips open the towel, the hand on his cock fully exposed now. If he doesn’t answer, surely John will glance up. He strokes, harder and faster, bringing his erection to its full tumescence. Then he thinks about John again; picturing the doctor’s hand on his cock draws a groan from his throat. 

And it’s the sound that draws John's attention, and if he didn’t possess excellent self-restraint, his chin would have dropped. Despite himself, John’s tongue darts out and across his lips as all the blood in his body rushes south, causing his prick to strain in his pants. Sherlock is an attractive man, but in this moment John can barely contain himself. Seeing Sherlock wet from the shower and uninhabited by any form of modesty is almost too much to bear. John watches silently, keeping his arms crossed firmly over his chest. 

He knows that Sherlock is aware of his gaze now. When he catches John staring at him, his hand pauses mid-stroke. For a second, Sherlock doesn’t know what to do and a beautiful color spreads over his cheeks and down throat. Then he begins again in earnest, teasing John further. 

Sherlock continues to glance at John through his lashes, the doctor’s usually expressive face is unreadable. Sherlock groans to himself that John is still so far away. With nothing to loss, Sherlock decides to pull out his endgame. He continues to stroke himself idly with one hand, while the other moves to his mouth. 

Two fingers disappear between his lips and he moans around them softly, imaging them to be the short blunt fingers of the doctor. He sucks on them until they are thoroughly wet before pulling them from his mouth with a moist pop. John continues to sit as still as a statue, only his throat bobbing as he audibly swallows. 

Sherlock glances down at his hand as it trails down his chest and stomach, past his twitching erection and just as they are about to find purchase at his opening there is a terrible growl from across the room, "Don't even think about it."

Sherlock's freezes in panic for a second before he looks up at John with a wide smirk. Before he’s able to utter a single syllable of the pithy remark he has planned, John is across the room and pulling him up. 

He smiles to himself smugly at a job well done, but his celebration is a bit premature as John sits in the seat that he’s just vacated and proceeds to pull the detective abruptly over his lap. 

The first smack is heavy and falls right on the crease where his bottom meets his thigh. The force of it grinds his cock into John's denim covered thigh, causing him to moan. 

"None of that then" John says, adjusting Sherlock's position so that his straining cock is caught neatly between John's thighs. And then John begins to spank in earnest.

"Ow!" Despite his cries, Sherlock still attempts to rut his cock where it is captured. John smirks at his petulant captive and only spanks harder as a reward, but only for a few moments. The force behind his spanking changes, becoming a combination of slaps, squeezes, and rubs. Sherlock's cries blend to moans as he wiggles over John's lap. 

"You naughty boy!" John lectures as his hand rises and falls in a delicate pattern. "Wanking in our living room for the whole world to see! You have no modesty, little man and I intend to teach you some!" 

Sherlock moans behind gritted teeth as John grips the flesh of his stinging cheeks and rubs. The pain of having his freshly spanked ass groped so roughly causes him to buck, trying to get some friction for his aching prick. "Yes... Daddy... please... do..."

A powerful grin spreads across John's face at the way Sherlock’s reacting. His non-spanking hand snakes around Sherlock's thin waist. "This," he grips Sherlock's hardness in his fist and gives it a squeeze. "Is mine. You are never to touch it without my permission again."

Sherlock attempts a pathetic thrust into John's palm, but to no avail as John pulls away quickly. John’s hand then slides up between his pink cheeks, brushing over the tight pucker. "This is mine too... how dare you think you could put your fingers into it!" 

John resumes spanking again, and Sherlock is breathless. 

"Yours..." He chokes out; his fingers twisting into John's trousers until his knuckles are white. "Yours Daddy...' 

John's hand continues its barrage until the bottom over his lap is bright red and warm the touch. The spanking stops as abruptly as it started and Sherlock barely realizes it’s over before he is being ushered off of John's lap and onto his feet. He sways a little unsteadily, his legs gone a bit wobbly, but John has a firm grip on his arm. John is looking into his face, searching for an answer, which Sherlock can only assume he finds because John leans in and brushes his lips across Sherlock's cheek before using the grip on his arm to turn him and march him to his own bedroom, peppering his ass with swats all the way. 

Once in the bedroom John directs him to the bed, "Up you get." Sherlock crawls onto the mattress on his hands and knees, glancing back over his shoulder at John through his curls.

"Is this how you want me, Daddy?" Sherlock has to suppress a smirk at the shiver that runs through John, he's glad he's not the only one coming undone.

"No, boy" John growls, “tonight, I want you like this.” John maneuvers Sherlock onto his back with a pillow under his hips, legs open wide, knees nearly at his chest. John gives him a foreboding look, snapping his fingers sharply. "Stay." 

Sherlock starts to panic as he sees John move out the door and he strains to hear where John's going but can't hear the footsteps over his own racing heart. He notices, belatedly, that his very open groin is facing the door and moans loudly. Sherlock tries to still his mind, running through the elements on the periodic table, but can't get his mind to stop spinning; and just as he's made up his mind to roll out of position, John steps through door, naked save a pair of red pants. Sherlock hears him growl deep in his chest, which causes Sherlock's painfully hard erection to twitch. 

John‘s not sure how he manages to keep himself from pouncing, but he stands in the doorway admiring the scene before him. Sherlock nearly always looked vulnerable, but never this vulnerable. His pale skin jerks with each hitching breath, and his eyes squint shut. 

"I could leave you like this, yeah?" John whispers, the hand not holding the lube he had gone to fetch begins to palm his own hard cock. "You're all spread out and on display for me. Maybe losing your modesty will teach you how precious it is that I allow you to have it most of the time." 

Sherlock moans as he hears John's words. He bites his lip and nods his chin up and down; he’d stay forever like this if it would please John.

"Look at me Sherlock," John commands and Sherlock snaps up to look at his lover. His eyes dart down to where John is working his hand over the bulge in his pants. Sherlock, lacking self-discipline, lets his hand move down to mimic John's movements.

"Boy, are you daft?" John snaps violently. Sherlock's moves his hand quickly, his fingers shaking as they retract. 

"Jawn....please..." He begs through dry lips.

"After you deliberately mocked our new rule," John retorts, climbing up onto the bed next to Sherlock, careful that their skin does not brush. "No... I don't think I will..." 

The young detective, desperate for touch, reaches out for John, but the doctor simply smacks his hands away. Throwing his hands above his head in frustration and huffing a pout, Sherlock fails to notice John lean into him.

"You want me to touch you, don't you, Sherlock?" John whispers into Sherlock's curls. John’s hot breath travels down, over his ear and across his neck, working up goose bumps on the flushed skin. "You want Daddy to do all sorts of dirty things to you?"

Sherlock, suddenly beyond the capacity for words, burbles unintelligible nonsense.  John chuckles deep in his throat as he moves over him. 

"I'll give you want you want, little man," John promises, his mouth inches from Sherlock's, whose lips are puckered in a desperate attempt to meet Watson's. "I'll take my time; stretch you nice and wide so you can take my cock. Hard and rough, just the way you’ve been begging for it."

He takes Sherlock’s lips against his own then, parting them with his tongue. There is no fighting for dominance in this moment; Sherlock let’s his lips be opened and his whole mouth be consumed by John. John had expected Sherlock to moan and whimper, but he isn’t prepared for the muffled cry against his lips as Sherlock arches his back, thrusting upward, and coating his own belly with cum. Blinking, John pulls back from the kiss and looks down at Sherlock's prick, which is twitching back to its normally flaccid state. 

"You came like a naughty schoolboy," John mutters, trying to keep up his dominant role, but unable to hide his surprise at Sherlock's lack of self-restraint. "Another new rule," John says as he reaches down to grip Sherlock's cock in his fist, the recent ejaculation giving John's hand the lubrication he needs for smooth strokes. "You do not come without my express permission." 

Sherlock looks miserable, his eyes wet with tears, but he nods his head.

"No," John growls, giving the prick in his hand a squeeze. "Answer me."

"Y-y-yes Daddy." Sherlock manages to mutter. "I'm sorry..." 

"It's alright, Pet," John softens, pressing kisses up Sherlock’s belly lovingly, stopping briefly to lap at the mess on his skin. "I kind of like that I can make you cum without touching you."

The words and the firm hand on his prick are already starting to make Sherlock hard again, for which John is thankful. He isn’t done with his little boy yet. Far from it in fact. 

John gives Sherlock's cock a final few strokes before leaving off. The boy beneath him makes a desperate mewling sound as his now full cock slaps against the mess on his belly. John slides between Sherlock's still invitingly open thighs. He takes a moment to survey the scene below him as he strips off his pants. His little boy looks debauched; sweaty, flushed, and trembling. His pupils blown wide, leaving only a thin band of silver. Hard cock laying in the mess he'd made a few minutes ago. 

John pours a generous amount of lube into his palm and works it around his fingers, warming it up. He slides his dry hand up Sherlock's thigh, watching the muscles quiver, before he reaches between the detectives thighs and places a well-greased digit against Sherlock's opening. With a bit of pressure, he loses himself to the first knuckle. 

John moves slowly, pushing in fully, never taking his eyes off Sherlock's face. The detective makes breathy noises through lips that can’t seem to form words. 

"Lovely." John mumbles as he begins to work himself in and out, all the while nipping along the inside of Sherlock’s thighs.

He adds a second finger as he moves his mouth up to the detective’s hip, sucking a bruise there. 

"Da...aaaa...dddyyyy." Sherlock gasps. "Puh...lleaassssse." 

"You like that, little boy?"

"Pleasse...yes" 

John smiles into the skin he'd been marking as he slips a third finger in and twists, running the tips of his fingers along the boy’s prostate. Choked off moans come from above. Sherlock's head tips back, fists tightly clenching the duvet.

John licks a path through the cum on Sherlock's belly before pulling his fingers free. His boy groans in devastation at the loss and John has to bite his lip to keep from chuckling.

"Drama queen." John mutters as he lines himself up and leans into Sherlock, balancing his weight on his good shoulder. "Are you ready for Daddy's cock, boy?" And before he receives a response he pushes in, fully seating himself in Sherlock in one movement. The body beneath him writhes and it takes every part of John's reserve to keep from coming. No one can say John Watson isn’t one tough soldier.

He leans in and claims Sherlock’s mouth as he begins to pump slowly. He feels Sherlock touch his sides tentatively, and pulls back to stare into huge inquisitive eyes. 

"You may touch Daddy."

Suddenly, Sherlock's hands are trailing all over his body. The detective’s long fingers digging into his skin only spur him on, and he thrusts particularly hard, angling up to hit Sherlock's sweet spot. Sherlock responds by growling and digging his fingernails into John's shoulder blades. 

John realizes much too late that he can’t make this encounter the gentle love making he’d intended for their first time. Luckily, Sherlock doesn’t appear to need sensual love making at the moment, his guttural groans and urgent kissing urging John to an almost frantic pace.

Pushing Sherlock’s long pale legs up to his shoulders, John leans in for a predatory kiss, pushing the boy’s knees nearly to his chest, before thrusting his entire length into Sherlock with as much strength as his hips would allow.

Sherlock gasps from the inexplicable fullness and the press of Josh's cock against his prostrate. Before he even realizes what he’s doing, he pulls back from John's kiss and nips at John's bottom lip.

"Sherlock, don't bite Daddy..."

Sherlock growls and he raises his head so he can sink his teeth into John's collarbone. It’s John's turn to cry out, and he instinctively thrusts his hips forward.  Sherlock pulls back and licks the bruising skin lovingly. 

It takes a moment for John to recover from Sherlock's sudden carnal urge, his prick fully sheathed in Sherlock's tight hole. 

As soon as he regains his bearings he resumes thrusting, harder and faster than before. "I. Said. Not. To. Bite. Daddy." He grunts as he drills himself deep into Sherlock with each word. 

Sherlock's mouth falls open, each thrust forcing the air out of his lungs as his head lulls back in pleasure. 

"Look at me, Sherlock." John demands. "I want to watch you come undone." 

Sherlock struggles to obey Daddy, but each stroke against his prostrate sends electricity racing up his spine; his still over sensitized skin burns under Daddy's lips.

A stinging slap to his thigh causes him to gasp and he’s finally able to focus on Daddy's face, which, belatedly, Sherlock realizes is a mistake. The look on John's face, equal parts love, possessiveness, and ferocity is Sherlock's undoing.

The familiar fire licking low in his belly moves from a slow burn to a house fire as he watches John growl down at him possessively. "d-d-d-d-addy" he stutters out around the staccato of John's pounding thrusts. "P-pl-please....c-c-cum, I-I-I...pl-please." 

John leans in and nips at a prominent cheekbone before reaching between them and tugging at Sherlock's cock, twisting his wrist and running his thumb over the tip. "Cum for Daddy, little boy."

Sherlock's breathe catches in his throat as his whole body goes rigid, sharp finger tips bruising John's shoulders. The fluttering muscle holding John in place is too much and with another few imprecise thrusts he’s follows his boy over the edge. John's world seems to wobble along the edges and as he struggles to catch his breath he can hear Sherlock mumbling into his shoulder, "Thank you Daddy, thank you Daddy, thank you Daddy.”

After a few moments John leans back up and pulls out slowly. Sitting back on his haunches he guides Sherlock's legs down into a more comfortable position while he tries to slow his racing heartbeat. 

"Shall we shower then?" 

"I honestly don't think I have the power to stand." Sherlock smiles sleepily at John. 

"Thank god." John grumbles as he grabs a loose t-shirt off of the floor and uses it to clean them off before tossing it in the direction of the hamper. "We're going to have a chat tomorrow about the state of your room, Pet." Sherlock hums at him as he tugs the detective to the head of the bed and gets them both under the covers. Sherlock fits snuggly against his side, head on his shoulder and soft breath on his neck. If John didn’t know better he would have thought Sherlock had fallen asleep.

"You’re thinking very loudly, Pet."

Sherlock shifts even closer and licks his lips, "Did I...was...was that alright?"

"It was perfect" John reassures, pressing his cheek into his boy’s forehead. "And I intend to be doing quite a bit more of it in the future." He can feel Sherlock's smile against his skin. 

They lay in comfortable silence for a moment before Sherlock asks, "So...why are you allowed to bite me and I can't bite you?" The detective chuckles and John could feel the smile against his shoulder grow even wider.

"Cause Daddy says so." John grumbles; swatting at the duvet covered bottom. "Go to sleep, prat."

"Yes, Daddy." Sherlock leans up and kisses his cheek, "Love you, Daddy." 

"Love you too, Sherlock."


End file.
